


My Head in Your Mouth

by dogtit



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Krista is 14 and if you're uncomfortable with that you def shouldn't read, Soft Vore, chapter 47 was Really Something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historia probably shouldn't be super into this, since she's being kidnapped and all, but she is. She just wishes she wasn't literally in Ymir's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Head in Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe i wrote this

Ymir’s mouth snaps shut on her with quiet, insistent force. Her leg nearly gets caught in between Ymir’s teeth, but Ymir sucks sucks her leg up like nothing and she’s left pressed against a Titan’s palate and tongue, safe and whole. Historia lays there for a long moment, stunned as she blinks against the rippled top of Ymir’s mouth. The soles of her boots are shunted against the backs of her teeth; saliva globs thick in her hair.

 

It takes about five seconds before Historia registers what’s happened.

 

She lets out an indignant screech and kicks hard at one of Ymir’s teeth, twice, before a bestial growl rumbles around her head and Ymir presses against her with crushing pressure. Historia is reduced to gasping against slimy skin and trying to keep from breaking her nose. She is going to _kill_ Ymir when she gets out of this, she decides, as soon as Ymir spits her back up and gets out of the stupid titan body--no, after Historia rips her out of that stupid titan body herself!

 

She’s gonna pull Ymir out and punch her in the face and sling her over her shoulder and bring her home. Historia will run interference to keep Ymir safe--the military wants her secrets, after all, and she’ll barter with them until they do what _she_ wants--and everything will be okay. Everything is going to be just fine, because she is going to save Ymir and help everyone to grab Eren too, if she can manage it.

 

It’s not because she wants them to see her as a hero, anymore. At least it’s what she tells herself; she made a promise and she intends to keep it. Historia Reiss is a girl who wants to live.

 

And also, a girl who is perilously stuck in her fuckfriend’s (Ymir’s insistance, not hers; Historia would have called her a lover but Ymir always got cagey around that word) mouth. The angry heat whistles with steam all around her, and she’s aware of Ymir’s gargantuan body swinging around. Historia pulls her hands away from Ymir’s palate and strings of spit and slime web between her palms.

 

She gags a little. This is so gross.

 

At least Ymir’s breath doesn’t smell, which is an honest surprise. Then again, it’s not like this fake body had anything to eat prior to becoming her convoy, and the steam clouding around her makes her sinuses ache enough that if there was a smell, Historia can’t smell it. Or, something to that effect. It’s hot, humid, incredibly uncomfortable.

 

Although Historia knows that Ymir won’t hurt her (on purpose), it’s still just the slightest bit terrifying to be in a titan’s mouth. No amount of rationalizing with herself will make her heart stop racing against her ribcage. Her body is registering teeth the size of her head and a tongue just beneath her body. It’s scary as shit, and Historia is half convinced her heart will shove itself free from her body and lob itself into Ymir’s gullet.

 

Maybe Ymir will choke on her heart. Fitting enough irony.

 

Ymir’s tongue suddenly folds in half and cups her tight; laying between her legs and the tapered end sloping wetly on her chest. Historia grunts and kicks her legs a little as they’re forced open. Historia is aware of her shirt--all of her clothes, really--plastered to her body from the drool and feels the flush on her cheeks deepen. She could put in a blade right now and cut Ymir’s tongue clean off and _make_ her spit her out, and starts to shift her arms to do just that.

 

(The odd thoughts hits her that once Ymir is human, she’ll kiss the phantom pain better.)

 

But then the--the tongue _moves_ , flexing in warning like the titan holding her knows what’s she’s thinking, and it grinds against her. And she shouldn’t feel that hot spark racing up her spine, she shouldn’t be cowed into stillness, but she lets her head fall back and gasps in steam and heat.

 

Distantly, Ymir’s body swings back and forth. Historia is dizzy so she closes her eyes to murky darkness. Ymir’s tongue drags over her to keep her secure, to keep her from sliding back, and her hips jerk.

 

Friction, bliss. Disgust, because she’s aroused from being in a Titan’s mouth with a Titan’s tongue between her legs, but if she tells herself that the pounding in her core is from fear instead of, well, being into it she doesn’t feel as bad about herself.

 

Fear and arousal have the same biological reaction, right?

 

Her soaked clothes weigh her down to make it harder to breathe, and it’s going to take her months to feel clean after having her hair literally washed in spit ( _she hates Ymir for the very first time for this, honestly_ ) and she’s being kidnapped, to boot. Historia should be focusing on all those things to keep her focus, to keep her mind sharp and her reflexes steady, but she spreads her legs a little wider to accommodate Ymir’s tongue when it presses down more firmly.

 

Historia is a fourteen year old who’s been struggling with her identity and the revelations that come with it, and the freedom on its own is an aphrodisiac beyond compare. Honesty is sexy and she was already going to shove Ymir into a room and fuck her for days, so she knows deep down that it isn’t fear that makes her wet, and it isn’t fear that makes her hips jerk against the ridges of Ymir’s tastebuds.

 

Can Ymir _taste_ her like this? Revulsion and desire swell in her gut with equal measure and she fumbles to put the handles of her gear in their holsters. Ymir shifts her in her mouth, curling her tongue like a slide so Historia slips forward, hitting the backs of her gritted teeth. The muscle cradles her back and the tip worms to press against the apex of her legs.

 

Historia cries out, weak and limp. Muscles firm with wirey strength lash out and she braces her hands on the top row of teeth, and her feet on the bottom. Her cloak nearly chokes her with its wet weight clipped to her throat and her gear is so clogged with moisture that it might be irrevocably jammed, but all Historia cares about is the pressure against her.

  
  


It reminds her of the first time she took Ymir’s tongue, her fingers, spearing her with greed and selfish teeth sinking into her neck. She moans with little care, rocking her hips down and wishing she could take off her pants or at least edge them down for Ymir to get at her again, like before--

 

(she’s always been so much smaller than Ymir but the contrasts of them has made it work. Ymir’s big, brown hands with freckle dusted knuckles holding her pale breasts, amber eyes eating up every inch of skin bared and her mouth sucking a collar of bruises over her collarbones.)

 

\--but she’s just going to make due with dry humping. Well, metaphorical dry humping.

 

 _This is fine_ , Historia thinks deliriously. It’s _really_ hard to breathe in here so while (maybe) she couldn’t get off by being in Ymir’s titanic mouth, but by mashing up fantasy and memories and reality she can make it work. Or pretend to.

 

The fact is that she’s going to come while Ymir is a Titan and is holding her prisoner in her mouth, and really Historia can’t find the shreds of decency in her addled brain to care. She chants yes under her breath, wheezing as she rolls her hips down, and when she comes it’s a relief. Only she really didn’t think this whole thing through, and Ymir’s tongue remains firm and she comes again quicker than she ever has.

 

Suddenly Ymir’s body jerks to a stop. Historia slams against the front of her teeth until Ymir hocks her out like bad jerky. Historia’s body tumbles in a wave of spit (killing her, Historia is definitely going to kill her when she can think again) into Ymir’s Titan hand, dazed and confused and definitely blissed out beyond rational thought.

 

Well. Shit.

 

 


End file.
